challenge

olderman

I challenge all to write here a sonnet,
Restricted in the prose the poet rhymes,
Must be metred, patterns with love to let,
Or allude to the lust from your youth times,
Surpass in depth this crass challenge of mine,
Lest you cannot seize the moment - so quit,
Or take this challenge - show your awesome grit,
Let words flow within a structure of prime.

And when you have composed yourself clearly,
To entertain this thread - the wolves in the woods,
The vampyres, seeming to love you dearly,
With wanton lust we claim your mind and moods,
You will surrender your free prose merely,
To satisfy my challenge made of words.

FinsburyParkCarrots

I think of Spenser's Astrophel, his doubt
that he might woo fair Stella not expressed
directly to her but in roundabout
third person discourse. Wyatt could not test
his bravery in loving Ann Boleyn
through sounding that plain word, the simple 'you'
to speak the raw desire held within:
this, many suns before Anne Henry knew.

It fell to Shakespeare in his Sonnet One
to tell the one he loved to share his light
by fatherhood. Immediate in tone,
and using second-person language, might
we say that Shakespeare taught us how to praise
our lover, named in joyous heart-displays?

FinsburyParkCarrots

Bumping this up. Olderman offers the noblest challenge of all. Who's up for it?

FinsburyParkCarrots

I had this lecturer in 'ninety-three
For my Renaissance Studies class, and he
Seemed intent, as far as I could see
To claim all sonnet-writers had to be
Sex-starved virgin soldiers in the years
of courtly England. "W*nking sonneteers"
was what he called them. He had had some beers
before the lecture, surely. There were tears
of laughter from the lecture hall at that
pronouncement on a bunch of poets. What
could we do but picture Sidney flat-
Backed and writhing as he held his hat
over his face, whilst crying for his Queen?
Great lovers have these sonnet-writers been!

Yellow

.

FinsburyParkCarrots

I always loved this one. Shakespeare, Sonnet 65. Maybe Shakey Baby's presence on this thread might inspire us all some more.

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.

Yellow

that fekka roits way betta-n-i-do

Being Enlightened

I never thought of love as a flower
Until the little bud began to bloom in my heart,
And it's embedding it's roots and gaining power,
It's getting strong and fast becoming a part.
I feel it shooting right on through me,
It's pleasant and welcomed like a warm embrace,
And if you could look inside me, you'd see
I was watering and feeding and giving it place.

Oh my love, to feel the leaves unfurling,
Sends vibrations that rock my very core.
To feel the petals slowly, gently uncurling,
The beauty of it makes me want so much more.
When I long for you I can smell the sweet scent,
My everything, my all, for you it is meant.









Hmmmm, sappy enough?

olderman

thanks fins and yellow... i'll write another when i get focused . love shakes sonnets also.. and this one by Swinburne as well..

Sonnet for a Picture


That nose is out of drawing. With a gasp,
She pants upon the passionate lips that ache
With the red drain of her own mouth, and make
A monochord of colour. Like an asp,
One lithe lock wriggles in his rutilant grasp.
Her bosom is an oven of myrrh, to bake
Love's white warm shewbread to a browner cake.
The lock his fingers clench has burst its hasp.
The legs are absolutely abominable.
Ah! what keen overgust of wild-eyed woes
Flags in that bosom, flushes in that nose?
Nay! Death sets riddles for desire to spell,
Responsive. What red hem earth's passion sews,
But may be ravenously untripped in hell?

Yellow

the sonnet is such an intensive little format...


nice one, miss enlightened...

coleen

Originally posted by Being Enlightened
I never thought of love as a flower
Until the little bud began to bloom in my heart,
And it's embedding it's roots and gaining power,
It's getting strong and fast becoming a part.
I feel it shooting right on through me,
It's pleasant and welcomed like a warm embrace,
And if you could look inside me, you'd see
I was watering and feeding and giving it place.

Oh my love, to feel the leaves unfurling,
Sends vibrations that rock my very core.
To feel the petals slowly, gently uncurling,
The beauty of it makes me want so much more.
When I long for you I can smell the sweet scent,
My everything, my all, for you it is meant.









Hmmmm, sappy enough?

*bows down to the goddess of LURVE*

olderman

In a vision full music I did see
Jimi stretching strings, psychedelic blues,
Silk shadows, dance reflections of blue sea,
Colorful coral reefs of many hues,
The which would have been hidden if not for
Jimi's intense sonic whispers and screams,
His mermaid swimming on the ocean floor,
Castles on the beach, wash waves foam - the streams

In high mountains where his red house did stand,
Run clear, cool like rapids create vortex,
Waterfalls like crashing cymbals accent
The music in this vision of his band,
The circus mind, the textures will now flex
As I waken from the scene truly spent.

a bit rough but i have alot of fun with sonnets!!

FinsburyParkCarrots

Octavia drenched deep in axis fuzz
suspended in a two-note bending wail
Soars ever-reaching over Marshall buzz
throughout the Fillmore East, to prize and hail
a new-beginning decade. Fingers blur
upon a maple fretboard, angled high.
"Auld Lang Syne" roars in this birthing year.
The light show pulses life's first lighted eye.

Nineteen-seventy. Come the fall
The notes are searing still the reddened skies
above Bill Graham's venue. Echoes shall
sprawl in axis rainbow flooding cries
landwide, to Greenwood where the man who played
That never-waning sound of love is laid.

That's one for you, olderman. And for Jimi too.

olderman

Originally posted by FinsburyParkCarrots
Octavia drenched deep in axis fuzz
suspended in a two-note bending wail
Soars ever-reaching over Marshall buzz
throughout the Fillmore East, to prize and hail
a new-beginning decade in New York.
Jimi's fingers fly, a spotlit blur
upon a maple fretboard, angled high.
And "Auld Lang Syne" roars in this birthing year.
The light show pulses life's first lighted eye.

Nineteen-seventy. Come the fall
The notes are searing still the reddened skies
above Bill Graham's venue. Echoes shall
sprawl in axis rainbow flooding cries
landwide, to Greenwood where the man who played
That never-waning sound of love is laid.

That's one for you, olderman. And for Jimi too.

thank you fins, thank you very much, indeed

FinsburyParkCarrots

Originally posted by olderman
thank you fins, thank you very much, indeed

I had to change it because I had nine lines in the octet! I think I managed to condense the imagery okay, I hope, in the edit above. It didn't need the mention of New York if I said 'Fillmore East', really.

Cheers!

dyaogirl

I imagine you as western skies,
As twilit seas that ferry waking dreams,
As emerald and blue reflective eyes
(Mirror-dancing starblaze-simple gleams).
I hear songs: seductive; torrid; calm:
“Come to me! Come here”. Here ends my quest!
Breath, ageless, sings our shared, eternal psalm:
Birth, death, years yielding to a needled breast;
I, born of providence on Swedish Hill,
conceive you as sound-image enters me:
Loud choir-dreams sound deeply to instill
Love's beautiful revealed simplicity.
I paint the night as songs you breathe to me.
I flourish in unscripted destiny.

FinsburyParkCarrots

Originally posted by dyaogirl
I imagine you as western skies,
As twilit seas that ferry waking dreams,
As emerald and blue reflective eyes
(Mirror-dancing starblaze-simple gleams).
I hear songs: seductive; torrid; calm:
“Come to me! Come here”. Here ends my quest!
Breath, ageless, sings our shared, eternal psalm:
Birth, death, years yielding to a needled breast;
I, born of providence on Swedish Hill,
conceive you as sound-image enters me:
Loud choir-dreams sound deeply to instill
Love's beautiful revealed simplicity.
I paint the night as songs you breathe to me.
I flourish in unscripted destiny.

You're in another league, my love.

olderman

Originally posted by dyaogirl
I imagine you as western skies,
As twilit seas that ferry waking dreams,
As emerald and blue reflective eyes
(Mirror-dancing starblaze-simple gleams).
I hear songs: seductive; torrid; calm:
“Come to me! Come here”. Here ends my quest!
Breath, ageless, sings our shared, eternal psalm:
Birth, death, years yielding to a needled breast;
I, born of providence on Swedish Hill,
conceive you as sound-image enters me:
Loud choir-dreams sound deeply to instill
Love's beautiful revealed simplicity.
I paint the night as songs you breathe to me.
I flourish in unscripted destiny.

WOW is all i can say..

FunkeR

this thread funking blows
and I think I'm the only one who knows

FinsburyParkCarrots

Many would
write prose of indifferent portent
and
arrange it
typographically on a page
and pass it off as verse
saying it reaches the essence
of true soul
more than skilled versifying.

In this big deconstructed ether
Quality of expression
balanced in form and content
isn't paramount.

Is it?
Is it?

olderman

all poets must adhere to this structure
of prose and rhyme for tis history sure
as it is your demon and obligation
to poetry's beauty and tradition,
words painted with black chalk on white paper
yet portraits are written on blank vapor,
whilst the princess doth not shine about us
instead her love is missing perhaps must

depart for a brighter shore perhaps love
has caught her heart and so drawn her away
to a place much like passions' paradise
as will happen when those in lovers grove
fly to some height not attained by some play -
words are both lovers shout and love's demise.